


Did You

by deltachye



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, No Spoilers, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x vincent nigel-murray]Sometimes, you just get fed up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel-ish to "Honesty is the Best Policy" ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/8115127 ).

* * *

 

Vincent Nigel-Murray was annoying.

The damn Brit managed to find you no matter how far or fast you went. He followed you around, managing to worm his way into every nook and cranny, leaving you escape-less. You even found him knocking on the janitor’s closet door, asking if you agreed with his theories on the bone staining. He’d always greet you with some dumb, irrelevant fact that you didn’t care about. He was always fishing for compliments, too, despite your vow to never give him one. Even when you were examining the bones Dr. Brennan had asked you to, he’d be there over your shoulder, making comments on your work that you already knew about.

_‘Did you know…’_

_‘Oh, I noted that greenstick fracture in my own papers already, y’know.’_

_‘Dunno how I feel about that technique. Seems inefficient, innit?’_

_‘Your handling of the bone seems very careless, see, I wouldn’t hold it quite like that.’_

_‘I bet you that I can name more American states than you can. Right, it’s funny, b-because you’re American, and I’m not, yeah.’_

_‘Did you know?’_

You honestly wanted to sock him in his dumb, pretty face. When you’d finally had enough, you sought out the most normal person in the whole museum and sunk into her couch, spouting your grievances like a broken tap. When it was over and you had run out of synonyms for ‘brat’, Angela smiled.

“I think he likes you.”

Angela’s comment, with her sneaky grin made you enormously uncomfortable. You clutched a firm pillow of hers to your chest, fighting the disgusted face rising to your features.

“Why would you think that — I think he hates me, that’s what. I don’t think anybody else would go around, trying so hard to piss me off. I’m not special enough.”

“No, no. You two…” she waved her pen at you, still smiling. You regretted your choice to bring this juicy gossip to her, of all people. Your stomach lurched when you realized how fast word traveled through the museum. Angela rambled on, her brown eyes gleaming with a new love story she’d dreamt up in her head. “…are very alike. I mean, the tension between you two is like, Booth n’ Brennan style. But your situation is more… love-hate. It’s pretty hot, if you ask me. Mm, yeah, the sex would be great.”

“No!” you blurted out at her final comment, unable to handle the suggestive words any longer. Your face and neck felt hot and you were very aware. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve _had_ sex with him, or even thought about it. I just… no.”

Once she’d finished laughing at your horrors, you scowled, plopping your chin into the tan pillow. In a muffled voice, you said sort of monotonously, “Booth and Brennan actually like each other. I can’t even stand to be next to him.”

“Oh no honey, he _likes_ you. Have you seen him? It’s adorable how he runs around after you all the time. Hey, remember that time you were like, sprinting into the elevator and tripped over something, and he helped you up — ”

“Yes. I like to think it didn’t happen.” You snapped at her, the painfully embarrassing memory stirring old pains in your previously skinned knees.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that you’re the one hiding something under that tough skin of yours.” She winked at you and then you were dismissed, like a puppy with its tails between its legs. You shuffled out of her office, ignoring her teasing lines of _go get him!’_ and the like. You checked your watch absent-mindedly. You definitely did not want to return to your workspace where the boy would be most likely be waiting. You contemplated clocking out early and camping out at your apartment until the intern’s rotation had passed to somebody more tolerable — maybe Bray, or even _Fisher_ — before Dr. Brennan rounded a corner, nearly ramming into you.

“Dr. Brennan!” you said hastily, straightening your posture and trying to look less depressed. She frowned at you before shrugging to herself, probably figuring your emotions and well-being extraneous to her thoughts.

“Mr. Nigel-Murray has asked for your supervision in Lab #4. ”

“Oh, well…” you tried to work an excuse.

“Is there something wrong? I’d like to get going with Booth.” Her tone was quite demanding. You swallowed and smiled widely.

“No, I’ll be right there.”

She walked away briskly with a nod of approval, and you sighed, shoulders slumping over. Brennan’s excitement with her partner deflated you further. She worked so well with him; you were quite jealous of a working relationship.

When you could avoid it no more, you slunk into the nicknamed ‘Bone Room’, taking your time with each step. Its fluorescent lighting was even throughout the expansive gallery. Vincent, as always, was waiting, a book in one hand and a knife in the other. You didn’t question it by now. He was scatterbrained, and you could find him pouring coffee down his trousers while absorbed in his reading. You cleared your throat, feigning confidence to mask your awkwardness. You prayed that he wouldn’t launch into another speech about penguin feet.

“Ah, there you are. I was hoping you could assist me with this?”

You nodded glumly. You were so paranoid that every sentence of his would start with the dreaded ‘Did you know’, that you braced yourself every time he opened his mouth. You snapped gloves onto your hands, rolled out the tension in your shoulder and held the hyoid up. You ran your finger along the cracks gently, and looked up at the waiting intern.

“What do you have for me, Nigel-Murray?”

“Well, ” he said eagerly, and you flinched. He barreled on, running circles around you, placing down tools and picking up new ones so quickly you couldn’t keep track. You decided to stare at the bone and breathe. “If you would please tell me what you see?”

“I see a broken hyoid.”

“Yes, but _how_ is it broken?”

Puzzled, you continued reluctantly. “…it’s splintered. You can see some microfractures radiating out from the middle. It’s also compressed.”

“We’ve assumed that the victim, this Jane Doe, hung herself, yes? But the hyoid doesn’t _fracture_ when hung. It — ”

“Snaps. It snaps,” you muttered, the pieces falling into place in your brain with a neat little _snap_. You looked at Vincent with awe, amazed that you had missed such a trivial observation. You remembered taking a quick note before dashing out of the room, excusing yourself from Vincent’s ‘Trivia Time’. If only you’d just thought for a second more…

With a breath, you murmured. “She was murdered. Strangled.”

“Yes, I do concur that it was a homicide.” He grinned as you sighed, placing the girl’s hyoid back onto the table. You recognized the lilt of his smile and the bounciness of his body on his feet. You sighed loudly, and begrudgingly nodded.

“…you did good for finding this.” You quickly thrust your attention to the hyoid so you could ignore his quiet exclamations of _‘yes, thank you, brilliant, thank you’_. You were less annoyed by the fact that you finally gave in to praising him, but more by the fact that he’d gotten on your nerves so much that you couldn’t decipher a simple fracture. While deep in self-deprecation, a particularly loud set of footprints echoing into the room meant that somebody was at the entrance.

“Oh!” Vincent exclaimed, bringing your attention up to the door. “Did you — ”

Your exhilaration of the new discovery evaporated with the infamous words. You desperately didn’t want to hear another fact — in fact, you felt like you’d heard all there was to hear. You had to stop the madman from talking any further. _Had to._ Your hands were still gloved and dirty, from touching the remains, so you panicked and shut him up with what you had left — which was your mouth.

Your aim was surprisingly excellent, as it was, and your lips were delicately placed between his. You tasted the sweetness from his morning tea, felt the wetness of his mouth before jerking back, your entire body stiffening with shock like petrification.

“I-I was… going to explain the hyoid…” He was stammering and stuttering. Even his voice was thrown off kilter into a higher octave. You held your numb hands out in front of you like they had been soiled with things far worse than bone and stared, unable to work a reply.

“Oh.”

“Dude, I told you! Pay up,” came Angela’s voice. You turned to the door with the movement of a board, where a disgruntled Hodgins stuffed a bill into the woman’s outstretched hand. She beamed at you.

“I thought they weren’t going to kiss ‘till next month. Damn it.”

“Did you know that I am _great_ at detecting these office romances? I’m awesome.” She laughed, heartily, marching away, leaving you wondering distantly what type of tea Vincent brewed.

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: http://deltachye.tumblr.com/post/145783689371/did-you-k-reader-x-vincent-nigel-murray

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Honesty is the Best Policy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115127) by [deltachye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye)




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